A Child of the Glens | Page 5

spiritual office was
widow Spence, who, as the clergyman stood hesitating before leaving
the cottage (he was debating whether he should offer the old woman a
shilling), sympathetically remarked--
"Maybe, then, ye 'd like to mak' a wee bit o' a prayer afore ye go back?"
Unreasonably, perhaps, the rector felt rebuked and annoyed by this
incident, and he walked home with a heavy heart. What could be done
for Tor Bay--so beautiful, yet so barbarous--so out of the way in every
sense? His personal efforts did not seem likely to be rewarded with
success, even if he could keep--which he did not himself believe that he
could--to the often-made resolution to be more frequent and regular in
his visits across the hill. He had been wounded in many points that day,
yet he had not gone away without hearing one note of encouragement.
Many a day and many a night he saw, like Paul, the figure of one who
said to him, "Come over . . . and help us." Only the figure was that of a
brown, blushing, merry-eyed girl of nine, who held by the hand a
delicate-looking, white-haired, timid boy. Again and again he fancied
himself walking sadly and dreamily on the pure smooth sand of the

beautiful secluded bay. Again and again he was murmuring the lines--
"Every prospect pleases, And only man is vile"--
when he hears a voice, and turning, sees the half-amused, half-eager
look of Elsie as she had said--
"Please, Jim says he 'd like to go to school, minister; and I 'd like too, if
it wasn't so far."
CHAPTER III.
The pleading voice was not in vain. After much anxious consideration
the Rev. Cooper Smith resolved to use his efforts to get the aid of a
Scripture-reader for Tor Bay, and other outlying districts of his vast
parish. The munificence of an elderly lady enabled him to bring his
arrangements to a successful issue more rapidly than he had hoped. He
was also fortunate in obtaining a fit and proper person for the post.
Robert Hendrick was by birth and education an Ulster man; but having
been for several years employed in the south-west, he had acquired
something of that geniality, tact, and courtesy which is, perhaps,
deficient in the hard Scotch character of the Northerns. There was
nothing of professional piety or of the professional reader about
Hendrick. A bright, active, smiling little man, he was soon a favourite
in Tor Glen. His visits were made twice a-week, and the inhabitants
soon found him a useful and obliging friend. He executed small
commissions, carried letters from Ballycastle, and acted generally as a
medium of communication with the outer world. But while thus wisely
winning his way by kindly offices, he was not unmindful of that other
world which it was his duty to bring before the minds of the people of
the secluded vale. One evening of the week a homely service, half
Bible-class, half prayer-meeting, was held, to which a considerable
number of the Presbyterians, and even a few Roman Catholics, dropped
in. The other evening was devoted to teaching the few little ones who
could be gathered together. Elsie and Jim were among the earliest
pupils; Jim was actuated by an almost morbid craving for knowledge,
and for Elsie anything novel had sufficient attraction. Mrs. McAravey,

notwithstanding her self-righteous indignation when questioned by the
clergyman, had in her heart a belief that religious instruction was the
proper thing for children. She remembered the stern discipline of her
own early years--not, indeed, with any pleasure, but with a firm
conviction that severe spiritual as well as physical labour was good for
the young. That "Auld Mike" permitted the children to attend the
reader's class was a matter of surprise to many, and that Hendrick had
been able to capture them added not a little to his reputation. McAravey
had, however, been pleased with the frank, obliging address of the
reader; and perhaps, too, there was some softer feeling in his hard,
silent nature than folks gave him credit for. Anyhow he made no
opposition; and though he did not fail to notice their absence every
Friday evening, he "asked no questions for conscience sake"--or rather
he rested satisfied with the result of his first inquiry.
"Where's the wains, 'Lisbeth, I wonder?"
"How should I know?" was the somewhat Jesuitical reply. "Maybe they
're gone to the town end; but they 'll be right enough, you may be sure."
And there the matter dropped for many a day.
Meanwhile school-work went on. The precocious Jim made amazing
progress in reading and writing--arts from which Elsie's impatient
nature revolted. This distaste was, however, counterbalanced by the
girl's quickness in other respects. By dint of memory, and an excellent
ear, she soon